


necessary things

by glim



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern: No Powers, Amputee Bucky Barnes, Bucky Barnes-centric, Domestic Fluff, M/M, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Shopping, Sick Bucky Barnes, Sickfic, Target
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-09
Updated: 2018-03-09
Packaged: 2019-03-28 21:25:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13912506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glim/pseuds/glim
Summary: "Are blankets actually on the snowstorm shopping list?" Bucky watches Steve kneel down in front of the end cap display and leans against the cart. He's still feeling exhausted, but walking through the pre-dinner-time, almost empty, quiet Target is relaxing. Two ibuprofen and a nap in the car helped the headache, too. "Or are you panic shopping?"





	necessary things

**Author's Note:**

  * For [R00bs_Teacup](https://archiveofourown.org/users/R00bs_Teacup/gifts).



Bucky's just about to doze off, curled up on the sofa in Sam's office. Usually he won't let himself do this, fall asleep somewhere at work outside IT, especially since Sam tends to have appointments and meeting in his office. Today, however, he had group therapy in the morning and conference calls in the afternoon. Bucky's not even sure Sam's been in his office since they had a cup of coffee together around eight. 

Which, by the way, was two hours into Bucky's work day down at the VA. He's pretty much the tech department around here, and when everything decides to go haywire, he's the one who'll come in a few hours earlier to try and unsnarl it. So, yeah, Bucky's been at work for more than ten hours already; he spent at least eight of those hours getting the snarls out of the network. An hour on the sofa in Sam's office, while he waits for Sam to finish up work, isn't that much of an indulgence. 

Especially when he's spent part of that time going through his own inbox. He's done with that now, thank god, and everything that needs to be answered can wait until tomorrow. He'll go to bed early tonight, take something for the fucking headache he can't get rid of here, and come in tomorrow at an actual, human time for work. 

That's enough of a soothing thought to get Bucky to rest his head against the sofa cushions and close his eyes for a few minutes. He keeps them closed when he hears the door click open and recognizes Sam's footsteps. The door closes again, Sam drops something own onto his desk, then comes to stand by the sofa. 

"Everything good?" Bucky asks when Sam pushes Bucky's hair off his face and tucks some of it behind his ear. He opens his eyes to look at Sam, and smiles as soon as he does. 

"All systems go. I think every single SMARTBoard needed to recalibrated in the meeting rooms, but yours truly managed that one." Sam still has the dark blue shirt and tie he wore for his conference calls this afternoon; even disheveled and tired out from the work day, he looks good. 

"That's my handsome, smart guy," Bucky says. He sits and stretches the stiffness from his shoulders, then reaches over with his right hand to rub at his left shoulder. The cold and the damp are making the shoulder ache a little, enough that Bucky can tell it's going to snow or rain at some point soon. "I think I had about two dozen thank you emails today..." 

"We love you around here, JB." Sam leans down to press a kiss to the top of Bucky's head before walking over to his desk and shuffling through the papers that collected in his inbox over the course of the day. 

"You're just saying that because there would've been a veritable disaster if you guys couldn't get into your Outlook inboxes and calendars." Bucky stretches again, and then rubs his hand over his face. Fuck, he's tired, his head hurts, and he's probably coming down with something if the sore, scratchy throat is any indication. He should probably have more coffee, or even a Coke, or anything to get rid of the grogginess--

"-- at least, according to your boyfriend," Sam says, then clears his throat. "Babe, you good?" He asks when Bucky just blinks at him.

"Yeah?" Bucky blinks at Sam again and gives a little cough. He really needs something to drink, even if it doesn't have caffeine. 

"Yeah... okay, that was not reassuring." 

"Wait." Bucky rubs his face again and tries to push back the congested, achy feeling that's been creeping into his sinuses all day. He flicks back through Sam's words, and then groans. "Why is he always _my boyfriend_ when you use that tone of voice?"

"Because." Sam gives Bucky a look, then smiles and shakes his head. "You encourage each other's ridiculousness, you know that, right?" 

"You are no fucking better, man. What does Steven want?" Bucky finally asks, ignoring the affronted expression on Sam's face. 

"To go to Target before the snow comes." 

"Right, he's definitely your boyfriend when he wants to go to Target. The two of you," Bucky says, and makes a vague motion with his right hand. "With the app and the price scanner--" 

"--that's Steve," Sam says. 

"--and the need to stroll through every aisle--" 

"Still Steve." Sam looks up from his inbox and watches Bucky rub at his face again. " _Are_ you okay? You look beat, JB." 

"Sammy, you know I'm good... Anyway, you look worn out, too." Bucky shrugs in reply to the question and, in the same motion, tries to shrug off the worry that he can hear in Sam's voice. "Tell Steve we'll pick him up outside the art museum. And to make a shopping list so I don't have to look at every fucking towel and washcloth Target has on sale this week."

*

"Are blankets actually on the snowstorm shopping list?" Bucky watches Steve kneel down in front of the end cap display and leans against the cart. He's still feeling exhausted, but walking through the pre-dinner-time almost empty, quiet Target is relaxing. Two ibuprofen and a nap in the car helped the headache, too. "Or are you panic shopping?"

Steve glances over his shoulder at Bucky and gives a nod before smoothing a hand over the blankets in front of him. "Sure. We need a couple for the living room and they're on special, so... Blue? The blue is nice... So is the plaid. It's really soft," he adds, and looks at Bucky over his shoulder again. "I don't panic shop. These are all necessary things, Buck." 

"You're lucky you look small and cute today if we're panic shopping for blankets and snacks." Bucky sighs and nods himself when Steve adds two blankets--the blue and the grey-blue plaid one--to their cart. He really does look cute, though, with his navy pea coat and red scarf, and glasses slipping down his nose as he examines the blankets. "Really cute..." 

That comment makes Steve frown at Bucky, and he frowns again when Bucky has to turn aside to cough and clear his throat. "First, I'm really not cute. And, second, you sound really not great." 

"He's getting sick. Tea, JB, the sort you like, with honey." Sam nudges Bucky's arm from the cart and pushes a cup of hot tea into his hand. He's got coffee for himself, which is completely unfair. "You are," he adds when it's Bucky's turn to look affronted. "You spent a whole fifteen minutes in my office rubbing your face and sniffling at me. Then you fell asleep in the car." 

"Okay, yeah, then he's getting sick." Steve smiles when Bucky continues to look offended. "C'mon, Buck, you always do that when you're not feeling good. Remember how you feel asleep in chemistry class? During a _lab_?" 

"I did not. You're both coming at me when I'm exhausted, though." Bucky holds the cup of tea close to his chest, though, and breathes in some of the steam as Sam takes over pushing the cart. 

"Poor baby." Steve looks genuinely contrite and wraps his arm around Bucky's waist, which earns him an amused look from Sam. "What? He's _sick_." 

" _Steven_. I'm not sick. Oh my god, I hate both of you. I'll drink it, I promise," Bucky says when Sam stops the cart to tap Bucky's cup of tea and Steve attempts to walk as close to Bucky as possible they meander from throw pillows to candles. 

"Your boyfriend," Sam says, and nods at Steve when Bucky sighs. " _Yours._ " 

"I'll give you public displays of affection next, don't worry, Sam." Steve hugs Bucky a little more tightly, though, and rubs his back when he coughs again. He's got that stupid worried look on his face, too, the little frown that creases his forehead and makes his jaw go tight. "You sure you feel alright?" he asks in a smaller, lower voice, and keeps his hand on Bucky's back. 

"Yeah, I'm good. I'm probably getting a cold, though." Bucky takes one sip from the tea, then another, and then realizes, okay, right, his throat needed that after feeling dry and sore all day. It's easier to admit to Steve he's not feeling good when Steve's being quiet and affectionate; it's easier when he's not at work, and he doesn't feel like he constantly needs to prove himself, to show he can do tech work twice as good as anyone even minus his left arm. 

Steve picks out a candle that's some sort of minty-eucalyptus-herbal sort of scent that he and Sam both like, and then they spend some time canoodling over the Target app. Which is both ridiculous and adorable, and Bucky spends about as much time just watching his two best guys as he does sniffling into his cup of tea. Steve shoves a few tissues into his hand as soon as he puts his tea down into the cart's cupholder; he sends Sam on a mission to get Bucky a few more boxes of tissues and cough drops, now added to the shopping list, while Steve picks out the few groceries that they need. 

"Sure you don't want to walk up and down all the health care aisles this time?" Bucky leans into the arm Steve puts around his waist this time, and doesn't shrug when Sam squeezes his shoulder. 

"We already did the important shopping." Steve glances at the cart, then at Sam and Bucky, and his blue eyes go really soft and fond for a few seconds. "We can head home now." 

"Blankets and candles?" Bucky asks, and maybe his voice goes a little rough sounding there, and maybe Sam rubs his shoulder again and leans into him when Bucky has to pull the tissues from his coat pocket. And maybe Bucky doesn't mind too much. 

"Blankets and candles, some food..." Sam takes Steve's phone well he offers it, and reads through the list Steve made. "Did you want to go back and look at pens and paper?" 

"Oh, no... no, that's fine. You guys look tired. I have tons of pens at home, I just like looking at them," he adds when Sam gives Bucky a little smile and Bucky nods. 

"Your boyfriend," Bucky says, and smiles when Sam leans in closer and rests his head against Bucky's left shoulder. He gives Sam a quick kiss, just against his forehead, and realizes that, yes, he's being a little quietly affectionate tonight, too. 

"Yeah, yeah. He gets so excited, though, you know?" 

"I know," Bucky replies and can't help but grin at the way Steve blushes as they talk about him. 

"Let's go look at pens and think about dinner," Sam says. "You need soup for your cold?"

"Nobody _needs_ soup, Sam. Don't start, Steven," Bucky adds, but leans in to the arm Steve still has around him when he can hear a sigh come from Steve in response. 

Steve actually gasps aloud when he finds the Pilot PRecise V5 pens on special; he even lets Sam convince him to buy the black and multi-color packs rather than waffle over them for ten minutes. He spends the whole time they're in line--seriously, the whole time--alternating between fussing at Bucky's coughing and sniffling and crowdsourcing Sam for ideas what to draw that night. 

It's just starting to snow by the time they leave Target, but the inordinate time Steve spends looking at blankets and ink pens is worth when they get home. There's takeout for dinner, including the soup and noodles Steve decides everyone likes best when they're sick because it's what he likes best when he's sick. He makes sure Bucky and Sam both have at least one bowl of the soup, because he's fussy like that, and he decides they're all going to have tea after dinner, too. 

Even Steve's ridiculous fussiness is worth it when Bucky gets to curl himself up next to Sam, the blankets tucked over his feet, while Steve sketches out a series of ideas for his next project. By that time Bucky's ready to fall asleep for real, not just close his eyes or doze off, lulled by the quiet sound of the television and the quiet murmur of pen against paper.


End file.
